


Something More

by jmajerus



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 12:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: Rhys and Feyre are roommates.  While his brothers are visiting, Feyre has a bad day and it pushes them to become something more.





	Something More

Rhysand Knight was a content man.  It was late on a Friday evening.  His homework was already taken care of.  He had a game controller in his lap, a beer in his hand, three empty boxes of pizza sprawled out on the coffee table, and his brothers cursing the day he was born as he destroyed them on some obscure first-person shooter game they had brought with. 

It had been six months since he had last seen his brothers and it was the longest stretch they had gone without seeing each other since his mother had brought them into his life as foster brothers when he was eight.

They had lived together all through their formative years and well through their bachelor’s degrees.  But then life had gone in different directions for them.  Cassian and Azriel had started jobs with their degrees in Criminal Justice and Computer Sciences.  Rhys had taken his Economics degree and had applied to the most prestigious law school in Prythian with every intention of getting into politics as his father had and his father before him all the way back to the formation of Prythian.  Once he had been accepted two years before, he had moved across country to start his next stage of life.  And since he had moved, he had made a point to go home every couple of months for at least a weekend to hang out with his brothers and his cousin, Morrigan, the last remaining members of his family, but he had missed the last two scheduled meetings.

It had been his fault he had canceled those travel plans both times.  The first time it had been because he had stopped at his favorite diner to pick up some pastries for the morning to eat before he left for the airport and had come across a young woman that truly needed somewhere to go.  He had taken one long look at the fresh bruise that extended from her left eye down to the bottom of her cheekbone, the wrap on her wrist, and the small duffle bag of belongings on the floor and had offered up the spare room in his apartment.

Not that he needed a roommate.  He was wealthy enough that he didn’t need to think about making rent with some job or another while in school, but he couldn’t possibly leave the young woman to try to find a place.  He didn’t want her to have to return to a shitty place because she had nowhere to go either.

And it wasn’t that she trusted him and his intentions either.  It had taken him cancelling his flight and plans with his family to spend the entire night talking to her and then the rest of the weekend making her comfortable enough in the spare room that she agreed to stay.

The last time he had canceled on his family it was simply because it was right before midterms and he hadn’t been as studied as he liked.  His family had understood both times and hadn’t faulted him for canceling.  However, they had been unwilling to chance him missing them a third time, so his brothers had come out and his cousin had promised to come out when she had time.

“I’m glad we decided to stay in tonight,” Cassian commented looking out the window at the thunderstorm that had taken hold of the city.  It almost looked like a waterfall outside of the window.

“Agreed,” Rhys sighed and set down his controller.  His beer was empty and he needed another.  A glance around the room told him both Cassian and Azriel needed refreshing on their drinks as well.

When he returned from the kitchen, Cassian was gone.  Azriel’s nod down the hallway towards the bathroom told Rhys exactly where he had gone. 

“So tell me about this roommate,” Azriel pressed while they waited for Cassian to return.  “You’ve been tight lipped about her.”

“She’s an artist.  Spends most of her days working at a gallery and then at a studio she rents with another artist,” he shrugged.  “She’s quiet but a smart ass if you do manage to get her in a talkative mood.”

He didn’t want to mention that over the last six months they had become fairly good friends on top of being roommates.  They had a movie night once a week when he wasn’t weighed down in homework and she wasn’t at her studio.  They also made time to have coffee together in the morning, if only for a few minutes before they both left.  She had a natural curiosity about everything and a passion for learning that had him often explaining his class work to her in a way that made him more passionate about it.  Sometimes he found himself texting her throughout the day.

“Did she get a Fine Arts degree then?”  Azriel asked.

“No.  She never went to college.  She has dyslexia and the schools she went to failed her miserably in coping with it.  She’s certainly smart enough otherwise.”  Rhys couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“And she’s damn hot too!”  Cassian nearly shouted as he came out of the hallway brandishing a photo of Feyre, a fairly racy photo of her in some black lace nightie.  “Are you tapping that?  If you aren’t, I’m calling dibs.”

“Where did you get that picture?”  Rhys demanded.  It certainly hadn’t been in the bathroom.

“Tucked into her underwear drawer,” Cassian announced looking awfully proud of himself. 

“Put it back exactly where it was.  I mean the exact spot it was in before,” Rhys growled standing to advance on his brother.  Feyre’s bedroom door had been closed.  For him to be snooping through her things, through her underwear drawer, it was a gross violation of her privacy, and not even Rhys had stepped across the threshold of Feyre’s room since she had moved in.  He honored her need for privacy when her previous bastard of a boyfriend had robbed her of it.

“I will, I just want to get a good look in proper light first,” Cassian held the picture up just out of Rhys’ reach.  He was tall, but Cassian was just a couple inches taller.  “Why aren’t you riding that perfect ass whenever you get the chance?”  He demanded.

“Because we are roommates, not dating,” Rhys snarled at his brother.  “Give me that picture now.”

“You don’t need to be dating to be fucking,” Cassian chuckled.  “So seriously what’s her deal?  Think she might be interested in something for the weekend?”

“I told you, her last boyfriend was a bastard that abused her.  I doubt she wants another man in her life anytime soon.  Especially not some man child that digs in her underwear drawer,” Rhys shoved Cassian back against the wall, earning a barking laugh from his brother.

Tamlin, that had been the name of the bastard that had been with Feyre before.  Had been engaged to her before.  He had gotten the story from Feyre one night after one too many beers.  She had been eighteen when he had found her, barely out of high school and working to make ends meet at some run down diner.  She had been suspicious at first but eventually had broken down and had dated him.  Then when he had been accepted to law school, he had proposed and dragged her from Springville where they had been living halfway across the country with him.  Then he had started taking away her freedoms on piece at a time until she hadn’t even been able to call her sisters or disabled father in his nursing home, until he had beaten her for begging for the ability to go for a walk down the street.  Beaten her and had locked her inside of a closet.  She had broken out and escaped and then Rhys had found her.

Rhys had had the displeasure of meeting Tamlin after that point, realized he had known the man before he had met Feyre.  Tamlin was a year under him but had been in some of the same courses and study groups.  Before Rhys had met Feyre he had disliked the man’s preference to an oligarchy for a governmental system and how he viewed the lower classes.  He had also heard Tamlin speak of Feyre before as he had bragged about the things his hot fiancée let him do to her.  Some of them were fairly twisted but he could hardly blame Feyre after hearing how Tamlin had been to her.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that!”  Cassian laughed in his face.  Rhys let out a feral growl and slammed a hand into Cassian’s unprotected stomach.  The man doubled over just enough for Rhys to steal the picture.  He relished in his victory for all of a moment.

“Oh, hello there, Sweetheart,” Cassian purred in the direction of the door. 

Rhys whipped around and saw Feyre standing there looking half drowned.  Her golden brown hair hung in wet lanks that dripped rivers of water down her sodden sweater and jeans.  Her rain coat, it seemed was wrapped around several canvases in her arms.  Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen marking she had been crying.

“Don’t mind my brother,” Azriel stood.  “He was dropped on his head often throughout his life.  Can I help you with those?”  His hands inched towards the canvases but Feyre wrenched them away from him.  Instead she stalked over to Rhys, took one look at the picture in his hand, and gave him the most heart breaking look of betrayal.

“How could you?”  Her voice broke as she snatched the picture of Rhys’ hand and all but ran down the hall to her room.  Rhys almost wished she had slammed the door making that she was angry but she hadn’t.  Instead she had closed it quietly, and that was worse than any feeling Rhys knew how to handle.

“Are you proud of yourself now?”  Azriel asked Cassian, coming over to cuff him upside the head.  “Apologize to her.”  But Cassian made no move towards the hallway.  Instead he looked to the door where Feyre had apparently left quite the bundle of items.

“What’s all of that?”  He asked, going over to investigate.

Rhys followed and looked over Cassian’s shoulder to see paint splattered wood he vaguely recognized as an easel, several worn down brushes peeking out of a bag, and a paint splattered cardboard box filled with almost empty tubes of paint.

“It looks like the stuff from her studio,” Rhys admitted.  But why was it here?  Feyre never brought work home.  She always kept it at the studio where she claimed she couldn’t stain anything important with her acrylic paints.  Beyond that, everything was waterlogged enough that Rhys glanced at the window.  “Where did you park your car?”  He asked his brothers.

“In the parking spot with your apartment number,” Cassian’s tone was almost patronizing.  “You know, the one right next to where your car is parked.”

Rhys cursed as he went to the living room window to look down at the parking lot.  Feyre’s beat up car wasn’t in it and the street parking was packed.  Feyre’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“I told you to park on the street,” he turned back to his brother.

“But you had a nice parking spot up close to the door.  Why would I park on the street?”  Cassian demanded.

“So Feyre could park her car in it’s proper spot,” Azriel came to look over Rhys’ shoulder at the window.  “How far did she have to carry all of that in the downpour?”

“At least two blocks.  I can’t see her car at all,” Rhys sighed.  “Excuse me.”

There was no fixing that she had had to walk in the pouring rain.  No fixing whatever had made her cry before she had come in.  No fixing that he had been holding a very private picture of her when she had come in.  But she was soaked to the bone, likely cold, and the least he could do was apologize and bring her some hot chocolate to warm her up slightly.

He made up the biggest mug they had and wandered down the hall to her shut door.  He knocked quietly enough he wasn’t sure she had heard.  But then the door opened and he caught sight of her tear stained face.

“I brought you some hot chocolate to warm up,” he held up the mug for her to see.  “And I wanted to apologize.”

She opened the door wider and stepped out of the way, a clear indication he was to come in.  It was the first time she had ever invited him into her room, and a part of him wasn’t thrilled this was the reason for it.

He set the mug down on her nightstand before he turned to search for her once more.  He took in her still soaked clothing though he knew she had had enough time to change.  But it seemed she was more worried about the canvases that she hair laid near the air vent.  It seemed like the paintings were fine but they did look wet.

“I’m sorry about Cassian parking in your spot.  I told him to park on the street but…”

“I know.  I saw the text you sent him this morning,” she croaked out.  And Rhys remembered he had told her everything he had texted his brothers that morning so she had known the plans too.  They were going to sleep on the couches in the living room and had been told to park on the street.  In turn they had told him what time they had planned on arriving and when they needed to leave that Sunday.  Feyre knew all of that ahead of time.

“As for that picture,” Rhys came to the heart of the matter.  It felt childish to blame it on Cassian.  He should have watched his brother better.  The man was a snoop, but he had expected Cassian to be digging in his drawers, not Feyre’s.  “I’m sorry.”

“I should have thrown that picture away ages ago,” she murmured.  “I don’t even know why I kept it.  It’s just asking for things like this to happen.”

“No,” Rhys frowned at her.  “You are entitled to the privacy of your belongings.  I’m sorry that privacy was violated.” 

He looked around at her room once more.  It was fairly empty of belongings.  Knowing she didn’t make much at the art gallery, he had lied about how much half of the rent and other bills came out to.  The check she wrote him each month ensured she had an extra $500 in her account to rent her studio and pay for insurance on her crappy car.  But he had expected her to at least decorate her room.  But she didn’t even have a proper bedding set.  The sheets were white and thin, the pillows were old and flat, and she had acquired several throws that made up the blankets on her bed.  And he knew she didn’t own much for clothing.  Her closet was empty and her half open dresser drawers marked them as only partially filled. 

“You should take a shower to warm up.  Don’t want you catching a cold.”  He almost felt like he was begging, almost.  The idea of Feyre getting ill because of walking in the storm ultimately because of him and his brothers would be one more thing he would have to make up to her. 

“Well, I’m not going to shower with you still in here,” she folded her arms over her chest and gave a pointed look at the door.  Rhys went, closing the bedroom door behind him.  That had been the nice thing about his apartment when he had gotten it.  He certainly hadn’t needed two bedrooms and two bathrooms for himself but he enjoyed the thought of his own separate bathroom attached to his bedroom away from guests.  And when Feyre had come, he had given that room to her so she could have some privacy after her jackass ex had robbed her of her privacy for too long.  Feyre had argued but eventually had given in, after Rhys had moved everything from the room and demanded to know if she was going to force him to move it all back.

He stepped back into the living room to see his brothers cleaning up the bottles of beer and pizza boxes and the gaming console was turned off.  Rhys took one step into the living room before stopping dead.  Their suitcases that had been sitting behind one of the couches were now next to the door and Feyre’s things were sitting on the coffee table.

“What’s going on?  You’re not leaving,” he asked.  Yes, he was pissed at Cassian for being an overgrown man-child, but he didn’t want them to leave.  He hadn’t seen them in six months and it would be another two before he made it home again.

“We’re going to stay at a hotel,” Azriel explained.  “So Feyre can have some space.”

“But we’re going to be back bright and early to make you get your ass up and go jogging with us.  I swear you’ve let yourself go,” Cassian waved at Rhys.

“Oh please, you’ll be panting before you get halfway through my morning running path,” he scoffed at them.  Cassian flipped him a vulgar gesture, gathered up his suitcase, and followed Azriel out the door.

Rhys was sorry to see them go but he knew they would likely be more comfortable in a hotel than on his couches.  He sighed and turned back to the actual problem at hand.  Feyre.  He went back to her room and knocked softly.  When there was no answer he opened the door and checked to make sure the bathroom door was closed and he could hear water running before he entered.  He went straight to her dresser where the drawers were still hanging half open and started to dig through the clothes in it.

Normally he would never touch Feyre’s things but he had never actually seen her wear anything remotely warm and the glance he had had at her drawers earlier hadn’t revealed any sort of sweatshirts or warm clothing.  And sure enough he was correct.  There was not one sweater or sweatshirt in her drawers.  The majority of her clothes were paint-stained, second-hand t-shirts and jeans she wore when painting.  The other two outfits she owned were two blouses and two pairs of dress pants for her job at the gallery.

He glanced at the bathroom door once more and went across the hall to his bedroom only to return a moment later with one of his favorite sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants that no longer fit him.  He left them folded on the edge of her bed and removed himself back out to the living room.  He turned on the TV and flipped it to a movie that he knew Feyre liked.  And after ten minutes, Feyre appeared wearing the clothes he had left on her bed.

“Where did your brothers go?”  She asked, throwing herself down on the couch next to him.  “Weren’t they staying here?”

“They thought it would be easier if they got a hotel room for the night.  Probably both nights,” Rhys informed her.

“Oh,” she plucked at the sweatshirt.  “I figured you left these on my bed because you wanted to keep the flirt from even looking at me.  So, now I have to ask if you have a problem with my clothes.”

“No, I—”

“Oh, so it’s a problem with my body,” she cut him off.

Startled, he made to start defending himself.  How could she possibly think he had a problem with how she looked?  Then he caught the spark in her eye.  She was teasing him.

“Yes, I do have a problem with your body,” he told her.  “When you first got here you were too skinny to be good looking but now that you’ve filled out you’ve become quite the distraction for my poor testosterone addled mind.”  He wasn’t lying either.  She had been terribly skinny to a point where he had worried for her health.  But now she seemed to be back up to a healthy weight and wore it very well. 

“Prick,” she mumbled and flicked his arm.

“Only to you, Darling,” he smirked at her and poked her in the side in retaliation.  “Speaking of being too skinny, have you eaten tonight?”

“Ugh!  I’m too poor to eat dinner,” she groaned throwing herself against the back of the couch.

Rhys sat up straighter at the words.  Feyre made an okay amount of money working at the gallery and he charged her far less than he could.  Her only other expenses were her crappy car, her studio, and food.  And he knew the car payment she made was miniscule.

“How are you too poor to eat dinner?”  He asked finally, unable to come up with anything.

“The owner of the studio swung by the art gallery today to tell me that he’s only been getting half the agreed upon amount and if I don’t come up with what is owed, he’s going to sue me,” she looked to her supplies sitting on the table.  “I don’t know where I’m going to come up with that kind of money.”

“But you’ve been paying your half,” Rhys frowned at her.  He watched her write the check every month alongside the check to him and her car payment. 

“I told Mr. Hybern that.  I always bring my check and put it in an envelope, and put it in the box for rent each month, but he said he hasn’t been getting my half.  I tried talking to Ianthe about it, but she just told me to get my stuff and get out.  She didn’t want to share a studio with someone that would try to cheat her out of her money.” 

Rhys scrunched up his nose at the mention of Ianthe Priestess.  She was a fashion designer that shared the studio with Feyre.  The one time he had met her as he had helped Feyre set up her space, Ianthe had rubbed herself all over him in an attempt to flirt.  Rhys hadn’t been interested in her, or the clothing she made.  He wasn’t even sure who would ever be interested in that much tulle on their bodies.

“You have your checkbook, correct?”  Rhys asked Feyre.  She nodded.  “And you have bank statements saying the money was removed from your account, correct?”  He pressed and she nodded again.  “Then you have proof you’ve been paying your half.”

“Want to be my lawyer?”  She asked with a halfhearted laugh.  The sound made Rhys look at her, really look.  Her wet hair was braided back behind her head.  Her face was scrubbed clean, revealing her freckles that dusted her nose.  And she looked so right in his sweatshirt.  Some primal part of him was oddly satisfied she had chosen to wear it, to be covered in something that was his.  “I’ll pay you with… I don’t know,” she sighed.  “How can I pay you?”

“Well, I can’t be your lawyer yet.  I have another year before I can pass my bars.  But I can give you legal advice,” he slung an arm over the back of the couch behind her shoulders.  “And for that I demand the cost of one movie with me right here.”  He waved at the TV.  “Think you want to settle that debt tonight?”

Feyre laughed outright then and he felt drawn to the sound of it.  Almost immediately as if started, her laugh died down with a sigh and her face crumpled into sorrow once more.  “What am I goes to do, Rhys?”

“Monday we go to your bank and get statements of your account.  Then we go to Mr. Hybern and if that doesn’t work, we find you a lawyer and wait until Mr. Hybern tries to come after you.”  He reached over to brush a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

“And if that doesn’t work?  If I still owe him?”  She asked.

“If, somehow you can’t prove it enough to them, we will see what we can do for you,” he gave her a soft smile.  “Pick your movie.  I’m going to get you something to eat.”

“I don’t have much for food here right now,” Feyre told him as he got up to go to the kitchen.

“Well, that won’t do.  I can’t have you being so unbearably skinny again,” he teased her, though he truly meant it.  Under no circumstance did he ever wish to see Feyre wasting away again.

“If it’s payment to you that I watch a movie with you, shouldn’t you be picking the movie?”  Feyre called from the living room.

“What can I say?  I’m just generous like that,” Rhys called back. 

“So modest too!”  She shot back, earning a grin from him.

He scoured the cabinets and the fridge finding nothing.  He and Feyre both normally did their grocery shopping over the weekend.  But he was not going to let Feyre starve.  One phone call to the pizza place later and he was settling back on the couch with Feyre, two beers in hand for them to have while they watched the movie and waited.

Feyre had picked some comedy that had them both laughing well through the whole movie and it kept her from noticing that she ate more than half a pizza by herself.  It ended and Rhys put another movie on, not quite ready for bed.

“Rhys?”  Feyre called when the second movie was well in play.  He turned to look at her and felt his heart almost burst with the sincere gratitude showing on her face.  “Thank you for tonight.  And, really, thank you for every night since you’ve taken me in.  I really don’t know how I will ever be able to repay you.”

“Seeing you heal has been repayment enough,” he assured her.  “I just want you to be happy, Fey.”

He swore he was dreaming it when her eyes flickered down to his lips and back up to his eyes again.  He knew he had to be dreaming it when she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his, just a brush of her lips against his, but enough that he felt a spark of electricity where they met. 

“Feyre,” he breathed out her name when she pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I mean,” she stuttered and her cheeks went crimson with a deep blush. 

“Do it again,” he begged, stopping her babbling.  Her eyes went wide at that but she leaned forward and met his lips once more.  This time he was prepared and he kissed back, his hand going around her waist to pull her closer, his lips moving against hers.  It felt so right, like this was what was meant to happen between them.  And despite the sudden heat pounding through his body, he kept the kiss soft and tender, not demanding like he felt his body straining to do.

They separated when they needed to breathe and then turned back to the movie as if nothing had happened.  Well, almost nothing, as his arm stayed around Feyre’s body, keeping her close to him and her head rested against his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest.  He dropped one more soft kiss on top of her head and felt her smile against him, and he couldn’t help but smile himself.

Neither of them woke in the early hours of the morning as Cassian and Azriel opened the door to the apartment with keys they stole from Feyre the night before.  The brothers were only slightly concerned when they didn’t find Rhys in bed, until they looked to the couch in the living room and found Rhys cradling Feyre to his body in their sleep.  His lips were pressed to the top of her head and she clutched at him.  Silently the brothers mutually agreed to leave to go running without Rhys and return later with coffee and breakfast when the couple was more likely to be awake.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kaz.


End file.
